The moment the glow died, the sanctuary transformed from a dream into a nightmare. Darkness surged in, broken only by the faint phosphorescence of dying petals. The dome of vines groaned as if ripped apart from the outside. Then came the sound—thunderous, rolling, like a tide of death crashing through stone.
The horde.
The first claw punched through the weakened barrier, jagged and black, snapping a vine like kindling. Then came another. And another. Screeches tore through the night as dozens of hollow-eyed infected shoved into the sanctuary.
"s**t," Kael spat, stumbling back as the barrier disintegrated. He still stank of sweat, of s*x, his chest bare and streaked with claw marks, his trousers only half-hitched. The machete he’d scavenged lay against the roots. He dove for it, grabbing
